


Damned If You Don't

by randomlyimagine



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Axii, Geralt has feelings, Geralt's terrible reputation, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Light Angst, M/M, Mind Control, Pre-Slash, contrary to said reputation, mistaken for evil, well geralt's angsting jaskier's pretty chill given the circumstances
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23942224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomlyimagine/pseuds/randomlyimagine
Summary: “And besides,” Jaskier yelled, “Witchers don't evenhavemind control powers,obviously!”In the silence that followed, Geralt let out a low, andslightly awkward, “Hmmm.”Or: Jaskier isn't actually worried about the fact that Geralt can, apparently, control minds. He is, however, rather worried about the terrifying rogue mage who's convinced that Jaskier is the White Wolf's victim. And who'sdelighted.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 37
Kudos: 222





	Damned If You Don't

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to wingedquill for the beta!
> 
> Overall fic warnings: Discussion of (assumed but not real) sexual assault, discussion of all the other awful things people think Geralt is doing to Jaskier, mind control (pretend), mind control (really not pretend), really gross and dehumanizing language from the villain (including people being referred to as "it"). See endnotes on each chapter for more detailed warnings.
> 
> Enjoy!

It hadn’t taken Jaskier long to notice, because people, in general, were not subtle.

Also, he hadn’t been traveling with Geralt two months before the first person came up to Jaskier, awkward and furtive, and quietly asked if he needed help getting away from _that monster_.

“We can’t do a lot,” the man whispered—a shopkeeper that Jaskier was trying to buy a new traveling cloak from. “But I’m running to the nearest city for supplies tomorrow, and my cart’s big enough for a man to hide.”

Jaskier frowned, because Geralt had asked around quite thoroughly, and the town hadn’t produced a single potential contract. “What monster?”

The shopkeeper’s eyes flicked to the door. “You know. That Witcher.”

 _Ah_ , Jaskier thought, wry and incredulous. _That monster_.

“My sister runs the grocer’s,” the man whispered, even more quiet. “She told me...well.” He looked down. “No one needs that much oil for cooking, not on the road.”

Well, yes, of course they didn’t, it was for exactly what the man assumed it was for, just not with _Geralt_. And, obviously, for _consensual activities only_.

“Much as I appreciate the thought,” Jaskier said, his voice taking on a performer’s cadence automatically, “Geralt would never, and I’m quite fine, thank you.”

The shopkeeper very clearly did not believe him.

“I can leave for the city today, if it needs to be faster.”

“And I appreciate your attempts to protect my—everything, I suppose, but I’m _quite_ fine, and traveling with Geralt completely of my own free choice.”

“...With a Witcher.”

“Well where else am I supposed to get bardic inspiration?”

The man’s expression grew even more skeptical. Jaskier sighed dramatically—it was clear the conversation would go nowhere. “Well, thank you for the sentiment, but if you don’t mind, I think I’ll just take the cloak. How much will that be…?”

The shopkeeper kept his peace through the rest of the transaction. But then, just as Jaskier was about to leave, he spoke. “Wait! You’re...not going to tell him about this, are you? The Butcher.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and huffed. “No, I will not be telling the White Wolf about your asinine assumptions.”

Please, he had barely convinced Geralt to let him tag along as it was! He was absolutely not going to mention anything that might jeopardize that, even Jaskier possibly, accidentally making his reputation even worse.

Whatever. Jaskier would fix said reputation himself, in time.

“Right.” The man’s face went pinched as he looked Jaskier up and down. “Take care, then.”

“I will, thanks,” Jaskier said, light as ever, as he left the little shop in hopes of an interaction that was less absurd.

–

So yes, Jaskier had figured out quite early on that not everyone believed he could possibly ever be traveling with a Witcher of his own free will, much less the Butcher of Blaviken.

The rumors did, _thankfully_ , grow less frequent as Jaskier’s songs spread, and as he himself was very clearly getting something—fame, money, _songs_ , though most folk underestimated the importance of the latter—out of the relationship.

But then, some people were complete and utter morons, and had decided that a bard who’d already achieved his fame continuing to travel with a Witcher was a sure sign that something nefarious was going on. Possibly something caused by violence, but more likely caused by _secret Witcher magics_. The second became the favored interpretation after Jaskier had started making his songs even more aggressively pro-Geralt out of annoyance.

Of course, then random peasants had started whispering about _that poor bard, utterly enthralled and still forced to praise his captor._

It made for many, many angry rants. If Geralt—who absolutely overheard even more bullshit than Jaskier did—wouldn’t be angry on his own behalf, well, that was what the man had a bard for.

–

One such rant—a truly _epic_ rendition, if Jaskier did say so himself—was pouring out, five years into his friendship with Geralt and about an hour out of an extremely annoying town. Because having to sleep on rocks and dirt wasn’t bad enough, no, he had to endure pitying murmurs about about _secret Witcher magics_ and ceaseless offers to help him escape from _the Witcher’s pernicious thrall_.

He’d be ranting along to Geralt’s grunts for about twenty minutes before he decided to wrap it up—Geralt’s mouth was getting just a bit pinched at the edge, in a way that suggested he perhaps didn’t want to dwell on certain parts of his reputation that much longer.

So Jaskier, ever the soul of courtesy, came to a close, practically shouted his last line: “And besides, Witchers don't even _have_ mind control powers, _**obviously**_!”

In the silence that followed, Geralt let out a low, and _slightly awkward_ , “Hmmm.”

Jaskier rounded on him in confusion. “Wait, that was an awkward _Hmmm_. Why was that an awkward _Hmmm_? It's not like you have mind control powers. What are you even being awkward about?”

Geralt just grunted. It was, Jaskier knew by dint of much Geralt-interpreting experience, the grunt he made when he wanted to move on from a line of questioning.

“…Geralt,” Jasker said slowly. “ _Do_ you in fact have mind control powers?”

“Hm.”

“Geralt. There are these little things called words, I know you’re not a fan of them, but we mere mortals generally find them _helpful_.”

The thing was, Jaskier knew that Witchers could use a little magic. He’d tagged along to enough of Geralt’s fights to see shields being cast and monsters being thrown back by nothing, and of course Jaskier wouldn’t have been doing his job if he hadn’t demanded an explanation.

But Geralt had never mentioned that any of that involved mind control. He’d even given a list of signs, and mind control had most certainly not been on that list.

“...It’s called Axii,” Geralt admitted after a long, long moment, wherein Jaskier stared at him quite intently in order to communicate that the topic would not be dropped. “It’s a sign. Influences people, animals, some monsters.”

Well, _that_ was vague as shit. _Influences_ , gods, sometimes talking to Geralt was like pulling teeth.

“And do you want to _define_ influences for me? I think deserve to know what I’m working with here.”

Jaskier did not process how that sounded until he’d already said it, and Geralt’s hands had tightened on Roach’s reigns. “Wait! Wait, that’s not what I meant. I just meant, in the metaphorical sense. In terms of bardic material, perhaps. And by _what_ , I definitely meant the spell, not you. Obviously.”

 _And_ he’d caused Geralt to shut down again. _Great_.

But instead of going silent, Geralt yanked Roach to a halt and turned on Jaskier. “This is not. Going in one of your songs. Ever.”

Jaskier swallowed. He could, in retrospect, see why that would be an incredibly bad idea. “Right. Right, of course not, my bad.”

“ _Jaskier_.”

“Geralt!” Jaskier looked at him head on. “Listen Geralt, you may deny we’re friends, but I promised to rebuild your reputation.” Also, he knew Geralt was lying about the friends thing. The fact that Geralt had never forced him away was proof enough. Even more proof if Geralt actually had mind control abilities, which, _wow_. “I know what putting that in a song would do. I would _never_.”

Geralt hummed again, but it was softer. Then, abruptly, he turned back to the road and urged Roach on again. “See that you don’t.”

From Geralt, that was basically a declaration that they were good. He was pretty sure.

–

“Wait,” Jaskier said, a few nights later. Not, Geralt noted with private amusement, that there was actually anything for him to _wait_ about: they were just sitting around the campfire, slowly making their ways through some roasted squirrel.

“Hmm?”

Geralt would never admit, even on pain of death, that he sometimes answered with a grunt in order to see Jaskier’s mock irritation.

“If you have mind control powers,” Jaskier asked, and Geralt did not let himself tense. “ _Why_ do you get thrown out of so many places?”

Well. That was...not the worst thing Jaskier could have asked.

Geralt still desperately did not want to answer, though. He’d hoped that three whole days without it being brought up meant he was out of the woods.

“Because I'd get thrown out more if people knew that,” Geralt growled. Jaskier wouldn’t shut up about it unless he said something, anyway. Especially not if the bard had been invested enough to bide his time about asking.

“So do people know when you do it, after?” Jaskier asked, half musing. “That seems kind of useless.”

“No.”

“No, as in they don’t remember, after?”

Geralt took another bite of his squirrel. It failed to get him out of the conversation. “It depends.”

“So if you can do that and make people forget, why did we get tossed out on our asses by that innkeeper last week?”

So Jaskier did think the worst of him after all.

It was unsurprising, really. And it didn’t matter. He’d long since learned not to care what anyone thought.

“I’m not going to control people’s minds,” Geralt bit out. He let himself stare Jaskier down; if the bard was going to make those assumptions, he could damn well do it while looking Geralt in the eye.

Not that it mattered.

“Right,” Jaskier said. “Yeah, duh, of course not. My bad.”

A nice thought. But Geralt wasn’t stupid enough to think that Jaskier actually believed him.

“...Really, never, not even once?”

Five years traveling together. This was what Jaskier thought of him.

Geralt glared. “Occasionally. When I can’t think of a way to avoid it.” And _not_ when he would just start more horror stories about his kind.

“Well.” Jaskier, inexplicably, grinned. “Congrats. You’re a better person than me! But we already knew that, anyway.”

“...Did we now.”

“Yes, Geralt, we certainly did. I care about what I care about, and while that is by no means a small range of things, I don’t exactly go around nobly saving the same people who spit on me in the street. You know, like you did, literally last week.”

It couldn’t actually be that easy. No sane human would hear that a Witcher could bend their minds to his will, and just be _fine_ with it.

Not even Jaskier. Trusting someone that much...it was something the more naive humans might extend to their closest friends. Not something they’d ever extend to him. Jaskier might have shown abnormal judgment with regards to him, but there was abnormal judgment, and then there was trusting a Witcher who had just admitted to not only being able to turn you into a puppet, but to make you forget it had ever happened.

“Melitele’s royal backside, quit angsting, I meant what I said.”

“Humans aren’t known for their trust in Witchers,” Geralt said.

“And am I known for being as stupid as most humans?”

Geralt didn’t respond.

“Oh come on, Geralt, I left myself wide open there! If I’m going to set myself up to be insulted, the least you could do is go along with it!”

Geralt grunted. “And I’m supposed to believe you don’t care?” It was a pleasant thought—yet another reason it was obviously untrue.

“Well. Honestly, it would be nice if you did, but I know this whole _believing people_ thing is hard for you. I’ll prove I don’t care, if there’s anything you’d except as proof. Hmm, you could cast it on me, I suppose—”

Geralt _snarled._ “ _No_.”

“Alright, alright, very well, that’s off the table, then. Well, is there anything you _would_ accept as proof of the forthright and genuine nature of my words?”

No. Not with something like that. But at least the bard was no longer asking Geralt to use Axii on him. He’d often questioned Jaskier’s survival instincts, but that was...beyond the pale. Unbelievably so.

Nauseatingly so, almost. But Witchers didn’t get sick, except by poison, so Geralt didn’t have to contemplate what such a physical reaction to the thought of casting Axii on Jaskier might mean.

“Listen, Geralt, I don’t care because, as we have covered many, many times, I am not scared of you.”

“Maybe you should be,” Geralt said, letting his lips pull back and bearing his teeth in a snarl. It was far more animalistic than he let himself appear, in front of humans.

Something soft hit his head.

Jaskier had thrown a spare chemise at his head.

“Pft,” the bard said, emphatically.

“ _What_ ,” Geralt growled.

“Like I said, Geralt, I _trust_ you. Hard to believe, I know, from underneath all that Witcher desolation. But we established that you’re a better person than me years ago, and sure, if I had the ability to mind control people into giving me free ale, I would definitely do it, but you clearly don’t—this isn’t about my questions, is it? Because honestly, I didn’t _really_ think you would, I know you far too well for that. But you can hardly blame me for being overcome by the tides of my curiosity, in light of such startling news!”

“I can blame you for a lot of things,” Geralt said, because it was easier than responding to anything else the bard had said.

 _Trust_. To a Witcher.

Jaskier had said it before. Geralt usually even believed it.

But mere days after finding out about Axii? Implausible.

“Listen, Geralt,” Jaskier said, because he was somehow still talking. Some days, Geralt suspected his own mouth would fall off if he ever tried to talk half as much as Jaskier did in a single hour. “It doesn't matter if you can do something shitty, what matters is that you don't. And I know you won’t, because you never do any of the other extremely shitty things that you technically _could_ do. That’s what trust is about, really. Like, I could stab you right now—”

“You couldn’t.”

“—But I'm not going to,” Jaskier said, ignoring him completely, “because I have morals. Just like you.”

“Your analogies would be better if they were physically possible, bard.”

Jaskier huffed. “Fine! I could put all sorts of horrifying shit about you and all the other Witchers in my songs and have them catch on across the continent, but I _don’t_ , because I have morals. Just like you.”

That was...not untrue. “Hmm.”

“Come on, Geralt,” Jaskier sighed theatrically. “You don’t actually _want_ this to turn into some enormous deal that damages my trust in you forever, do you?”

No. That was almost the last thing that Geralt wanted.

Geralt was just rarely lucky enough to get what he did want.

“Hm.”

“No, of course not,” Jaskier said. “And since you don’t want that to happen, but you don’t want to take the easy route and just _believe me_ either, apparently, I’ll do you a favor and prove it to you. For real this time!”

Geralt’s eyes narrowed over the campfire.

Then he ducked his head. Out of the way of a walnut, from the smell of it.

Another one hit his knee a second later.

Jaskier, when Geralt looked up, was grinning triumphantly. “So! Would someone who was afraid of you and your _secret Witcher magics_ pelt you with walnuts?”

Geralt did not dignify that with a response.

“Exactly!” Jaskier’s smile was almost blinding. “And therefore, in order to prove the sincerity of my unwavering trust and devoted friendship, I will continue to pelt you with walnuts until you agree that I’m not afraid of you.”

Then Jaskier threw another walnut.

It was...well, Geralt could admit it was very typical of Jaskier, and absolutely atypical of the many thousands of humans he’d met who were afraid of him.

Walnuts, of all things. And with that huge, shining grin.

Maybe…

It was true, that Jaskier had never been afraid of him. Even when Geralt had punched him.

Maybe he could let himself trust. Just Jaskier. And certainly not about everything, but...

“Fine.”

Another walnut.

“I said fine!”

Trust. The thought felt...warm.

Jaskier’s smile softened, but it didn’t look any less genuine. “That’s the spirit!”

–

So yes, Jaskier knew full well that Geralt could, technically, control minds. But Jaskier also knew full well that he had nothing to worry about on that front, and anyway Geralt almost never did it, maybe once where Jaskier could see in all their years together, and Geralt wasn’t exactly a fan of answering Jaskier’s questions about it. So it didn’t, ultimately, matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Detailed warnings for this chapter: People incorrectly assume that Geralt is doing a lot of horrible things to Jaskier, including mind control and sexual assault. Jaskier and Geralt overhear a lot of statements to this effect, and people offer to help Jaskier "get away," to Jaskier's general irritation.
> 
> I am having a v stressful week, so if you wanted to leave a comment and help cheer me up, that'd be pretty swell


End file.
